


Forever Hold Your Peace

by MrProphet



Series: Brides of Dracula [1]
Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: F/M, Forced Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 11:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet
Summary: A shout out to Marcus Sedgwick's My swordhand is Singing, which introduced me to the concept of the Wedding of the Dead.





	Forever Hold Your Peace

The Wedding of the Dead was an ancient custom with a long and somewhat macabre history. The death of a young man was a tragedy for the whole community, especially the death of one who was no longer a boy, but not yet a father. The death of young Radu Balcescu was just such a tragedy.

Radu was the last surviving grandson of Elder Balcescu, and while there remained a gaggle of granddaughters to care for the old man in his dotage, there was now no male heir of the noble line of Balcescu, who had led the village with such wisdom for so many generations. Had Radu lived just a few more weeks he would have been wed to city-born beauty Dominique Ruicu and perhaps there might have been a son, a posthumous son but an heir nonetheless. But the sickness that overcame him had come too quickly, and now there would be nothing.

There was a shame in sending an unwed youth to the grave. For the last of the Balcescus this shame could not be borne. Thus it was that Elder Balcescu and Father Andrei declared that there would be a Wedding of the Dead, and that the body of Radu Balcescu would be married before its interment.

But not to Dominique Ruicu, of course, her father would never stand for that and the question of her sizeable dowry would merely complicate matters. No, for the deceased Radu it was only important that he be wed to a virgin of a respectable house whose personal charms would not disgrace him. The tanner’s daughter, Iulia Lupesca, fit every criteria, and if she was reluctant, well that was no bar to her participation.

Iulia begged and pleaded with her father, but to no avail. She wept on her knees before Elder Balcescu, but the old man hardly seemed to hear her and Dominique Ruicu actually laughed. At last, Iulia fled to the church and prayed to God and begged the priest to grant her sanctuary. All to no avail. The Balcescus were powerful and the Ruicus were rich, while the Lupescas were poor and their arms could be twisted.

Thus it was that Iulia Lupesca, poor, pretty, virtuous Iulia, found herself stood at the graveside of her childhood friend Radu, swearing to honour and obey until death did them part. Her wedding dress and veil were as black as pitch, and beneath them her face was as pale as chalk.

“And if there be any person here present who knows of any just cause or impediment why this man and this woman may not be joined in matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

There was a short pause, for form’s sake, but no-one really expected any protest. Even Iulia had no hopes of an interruption, although she had prayed for such and even now did so still in the silence of her heart.

“I object.” The voice which spoke was cold, hard and powerful. The speaker was a tall, imposing man in a long, black cloak. His hair was iron grey and long moustaches hung down beside his full, dark red lips. His skin was as pale as ash and his eyes flashed like flames in the light of the setting sun. He stood by the door of a great coach, drawn by four mighty horses, but none had heard him arrive in the cemetery.

He strode forward through the crowd of mourners and all fell back at his approach. Iulia heard the elders whisper as he passed: “The Count. It is the Count himself!”

Father Andrei stepped forward. “Go from this place, fiend,” he commanded. “This is a sacred rite!”

“This is a travesty,” the Count declared. “This boy has no right to wed, in life or in death. He dared to challenge my authority and for his temerity I struck him down. Now all that was his is forfeit to me, including his bride.” He stepped forward and held out his hand to Iulia, his eyes burning into his.

Iulia felt a wave of horror wash over her as she realised that this was the thing that she had prayed for. Powerless to resist, she found herself moving towards the Count and taking his proffered hand. It was as cold as ice, and when he lifted her veil and kissed her lips, his breath was as cold and rank as Radu’s grave.

*

Dominique Ruicu left the town that night, ordering that a coach be made ready for her at once, despite the pleas of Elder Balcescu and Father Andrei. “I was brought here under false pretences,” she declared, “and I will not stay a moment longer in this den of madmen and monstrosities.”

She did not glance back even once, glad to be leaving behind the town and all its long, sinister shadows. As the coach crested the low rise above the town, however, she heard a crash in the undergrowth beside the road and turned to look from the window. She felt a breath of cold wind on the back of her neck.

When Dominque sat back in her seat, she saw that she was not alone. Two women sat opposite her, tall, slim and pale.

“Who are you?” Dominique demanded in a high, frightened voice. “What are you doing in my carriage?”

One of the women gave a soft, chilling laugh. “Go ahead, my dear. You have that right.”

Slowly, the second woman leaned forward until Dominique could clearly see her face. “You also were pledged to Radu,” Iulia said. “Therefore, you also belong to the Master now.” Her red lips parted in a cruel smile, and the tips of her razor-sharp incisors gleamed in the moonlight.

And the driverless carriage thundered up the path to Castle Dracula, with not a living soul within it.

**Author's Note:**

> A shout out to Marcus Sedgwick's My swordhand is Singing, which introduced me to the concept of the Wedding of the Dead.


End file.
